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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26189272">Fighter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22'>QueenOfNewOrleans22</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, M/M, Mild Fluff, Past Child Abuse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:55:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,949</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26189272</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting into a fight after one of their concerts, Nikki acts odd and Mick talks to him, hoping to get to the bottom of the mystery.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mick Mars/Nikki Sixx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fighter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Here's to the Crüe!" </p><p>Laughter followed the proclamation, cheers of victory after yet another concert that ended successfully. Mick, never one to be the midst of the chaos, was near the corner, sipping his drink and tapping out a song on the worn wood of the bar. Most of his dark hair obscured his face, ensuring that nobody would approach the mysterious man in the corner, because they didn't know who he was. Nobody would expect that <em>he </em>was in a band, and Mick usually worked that to his advantage, being the old man of the group. </p><p>Vince was already talking to some girl in too much makeup and too little clothing, lips upturned in a smirk. Mick couldn't hear what they were talking about, but it wasn't hard to put the pieces together and figure that Vince would be taking her home. It was hardly surprising, seeing how it <em>always </em>ended up happening. Vince was loud and outgoing and certainly liked his girls. </p><p>"Aw, c'mon, man!" Tommy said, his voice rising above that of the crowd's in a way that made Mick grit his teeth in surprise, having not expected the sudden interruption of his relative silence. Half-turning in his chair, Mick watched as the drummer and Nikki, already with that dazed look in his eyes that suggested that he'd already been shooting up, presumably argued in the distance. </p><p>Mick considered going over there and stopping the argument because, whenever he left those two to their own devices, bad shit happened. It was tempting because then, maybe, they could leave the bar and it's crappy music behind, but Mick really didn't want to get up from the chair. His back was singing grand opera and hadn't stopped since they'd gotten offstage, and this was the first rest he'd gotten in several hours. </p><p>But he was responsible one of the group, and in charge of making sure that none of the idiots killed themselves. </p><p>Vince was now making out with the girl. Mick rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to go and ruin the moment just for the fun of it, not wanting to have to ride home with Vince complaining about it. "You're no fun right now!" Tommy yelled, his voice slurred slightly. Nikki replied in an equally heated tone, but his words were drowned out in the combined music and chatter from the other people in this seedy place. </p><p>It was now becoming too much. Mick wasn't built for this kind of noise, and so he stood, hoping for five minute of peace and quiet as he went his way into the bathroom. </p><p>He didn't even really need to go. </p><p>Inside the bathroom were abandoned needles, broken glass, but no people. Mick thanked whatever higher power there was as he went to the sink and washed his face in cold water, wondering how he was going to survive the years to come if he was already feeling the weight of everything on his shoulders. </p><p>Leaving wasn't an option. Not yet, at least. Mick was not only their guitarist, but the only sane mind in this band full of drunkards, drug addicts and chaotic souls. </p><p>The voices became louder. </p><p>Mick sighed, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt as he left the bathroom, resigning himself to a long night. But it appeared that something had happened in the two minutes that he'd been gone, because, all of a sudden, there was a small crowd and Vince was suspiciously absent from his seat. </p><p><em>'Oh, fuck.' </em>Mick thought, immediately on edge. </p><p>He pushed through the people, hoping that it wasn't <em>his </em>idiots who had decided to start a fight, hoping that they were just outside or somewhere else in this godforsaken place because he really didn't want to deal with this- </p><p>But, of course, life was a bitch and everybody hated him. </p><p>"Get out of my way." Mick muttered, shouldering past the men and women who had gathered. The first thing he saw was a familiar head of blonde hair rolling around on the floor with a man who Mick didn't recognize. Even if he could put a name to the face, Mick wouldn't have wasted a minute in diving into the fray against his better judgement. </p><p>Nikki was identifiable due to the sheer amount of eyeliner he was wearing, and the fact that Tommy was trying to hold him back. It was a rare moment for the drummer to be level headed enough to do such a thing, and Mick was glad for that, because it was hard enough to try and pull Vince away, a feat that took a long minute. </p><p>Whatever or whoever had the fight could wait. Mick managed to grab hold of Vince and forced him toward the exit, praying that the man was too incapacitated, or just too drunk, to follow and try to resume the fight. Tommy did the same, directing a very angry Nikki toward the door that would lead them out of the bar. </p><p>The night air was chilly, and Mick could feel the frigid needles of the air bite into his skin as the door slammed behind them. Vince stumbled and nearly fell, if not for the grip that Mick had on the back of his worn jacket. Nikki immediately fought his way out of Tommy's arm, eyes wild and shaded with the distinct look of a wild animal that has been trapped. </p><p>"Let the <em>fuck </em>go of me!" Nikki yelled, breathless as he stumbled toward the curb. His lips were twisted in a snarl, and Mick looked at him, sensing the same trouble and pain that always painted Nikki in such situations. Tommy looked startled, and let go as demanded. </p><p>Whatever buzz that had been provided by the alcohol was gone. Mick was tired, and rather irritated by the turn of the night. But there was nothing he could really do but cross his arms, and glare at Vince, and ask what the actual hell had happened. </p><p>Vince scowled. He wiped at his mouth, and winced as it aggravated his split lip. "That girl who I was talking to?" He said, voice bordering on hysterical. "She was dating." </p><p>Mick rolled his eyes. "And what happened after that?" </p><p>"Vince insulted the guy." Tommy helpfully said, when Vince fell silent and didn't answer. His hair was mussed and he was breathing rather heavily but, for once, the drummer didn't seem to have actually gotten embroiled in the fight. Mick wondered about whether he should be shocked by that or not. "Asked if he was <em>making up </em>for...well, you know." Tommy shrugged. </p><p>Nikki was now sitting on the curb. Mick could see how stiffly the younger man was holding himself, and knew something was wrong. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and took a minute to think. </p><p>After a moment, he looked back up. </p><p>The apartment that they'd been sharing for the past few months was just a few blocks away. Mick glanced at his watch, and made his decision. "Okay, Tommy and Vince, you two walk home. I <em>expect </em>that you two will be smart and not be stupid, just this once." Mick hoped that his tone would help hammer the point home. </p><p>Luckily for them, Vince and Tommy seemed to have gotten the point, and Mick was sure as they walked home that they would be fine. </p><p>Now, time to preform some sort of damage control. </p><p>Nikki was sitting on the curb, head in his hands, a slumped from hunched down on the ground. Mick grit his teeth as he carefully sat down beside the younger man, not exactly keen on what he was doing, but knowing that he needed to be eye to eye if they were about to have some semblance of a conversation. </p><p>"What?" Nikki said, his voice stuck in the typical to be of defensiveness. There was a look about the bassist, one that reminded Mick of an animal who had been trapped but was unable to get out. It was almost like Nikki simultaneously shrink into himself the more he put himself out. </p><p>Mick didn't care if that made sense. "I'm not about to force you to dredge up shit from your past, Nik, but we're not your enemies." Mick sighed, wondering if he was going about this the right way. Nikki scowled, "I didn't say you guys were my enemies." </p><p>'<em>But you thought it.' </em></p><p>The sun was beginning to come up. Mick cursed, knowing that a long day would be ahead of him, full of coffee and alcohol and probably more of each, and then trying to keep Tommy from doing something dumb while simultaneously trying to keep Vince and Nikki from killing the drummer over said dumb things.</p><p>But, he got himself into this mess, and there was no way to go but down. </p><p>"You got that look in your eyes, Nik. Something is going on in your head, and I don't know what it is, and I won't force you to tell me, but we're all here, you know that right? We're all fucked up, but we still got enough sense to help you." Mick said, voice firm. He hoped that the message was getting through the bassist's thick skull, but there was no way of telling. </p><p>They sat in silence for awhile, a companionship forged through these dark years on the strip. Nikki eventually shrugged, his shoulder heavy with the weight of it all. "I just thought back to some...bad years in my life. I got punched and it all just, I dunno, came flooding back, like there was this dam...and it broke. My mom's boyfriends were all pieces of shit." </p><p>Mick felt something heavy form in his chest at those words, and he pieced together the pieces, figured out the implications. </p><p>
  <em>Fuck. </em>
</p><p>It wasn't shocking, not really. Nikki was sharp and defensive, and never seemed to lower his guard, weary of getting hurt. Mick wasn't surprised because he had always suspected it, but never dared speak his suspicions aloud.</p><p>But that didn't make the revelation pack any less of a punch. </p><p>He swallowed past the heavy lump in his throat, and forced himself to not dig deeper. Nikki obviously didn't want to talk about it, and Mick respected that decision. </p><p>"Well, now you got us." Mick said, and Nikki smirked. It was a shadow of his usual one, but it was there. </p><p>It was there. </p><p>Mick stood up with a grimace. "Nobody is gonna hurt you without one of us hurting them back...and, of course, without you putting them in a world of hurt." </p><p>
  <em>But if I ever come across any one of those guys that hurt you...well, I may be old, but I'm not invalid yet. </em>
</p><p>Nikki nodded, and he stood up, too. The bassist seemed to almost blend into the night, like he was meant to be there, a creature of the darkness. "We should get going. Tommy is probably driving Vince up a wall." He said, obviously eager to change the subject. Mick agreed and wrapped his arm around Nikki's shoulder as they began to walk. </p><p>Mick didn't mention how Nikki seemed to melt into the physical contact, as if he'd been wanting it despite the mask he put on daily, a mask that was already beginning to show cracks. </p><p>And whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen. </p><p>But Nikki was a fighter. That was clear enough, and Mick knew that he'd be fine. Nikki would stumble, and maybe fall, but he would always get back up. </p><p>So Mick was just content in their closeness, and keeping Nikki close, holding against the night. </p>
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